


Missouri

by Lunan95



Series: The Red vs Blue Chronicles - a Canon Divergence [1]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood Gulch Chronicles, Gen, Quincy's gonna be important later, Quincy's probably a walking spoiler, a lot of pairings comes later on, also I really don't want Church to die, and at once not, it might be a retelling, nothing with Quincy though, she isn't important for the romance stuff except being supportive, that hurts so much, the first chapter is pre-canon, y'all understand, years before the Blood Gulch Chronicles happens
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2019-11-08 06:59:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17976566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunan95/pseuds/Lunan95
Summary: Project Freelancer came with dire consequences. The Director saw fit that something has to be done, to secure humanity's survival and an idea came. Most of the agents didn't survive, let alone could become accustomed with their implanted AI. So...why not implant an AI into a newborn infant, raising it into the perfect Freelancer soldier.20 years later, Quincy is a young recruit with false memories of the Red Army, stationed in Blood Gulch Outpost Number 1 and she thought she was an entirely normal girl. But then she met the Reds and the Blues and things went pretty much to hell after that.First part of the Missouri-verse. Prequel series. Takes place before the Blood Gulch Chronicles.





	1. Prologue: Agent Missouri

__**Year 2527  
**   
Project Freelancer came with dire consequences, despite it was meant to be a great benefit. To secure humanity in a harsh and violent universe, it were supposed to be the answer for the humanity's survival.  
  
Implating A.I into various agents, the most skilled they could find. But it were never enough.  
  
That was when an idea came to the Director. Some agents had trouble with their assigned A.I units, some even resulted in failure. Perhaps a skilled agent wasn't enough, it took them time to get adusted which costed them valuable time. Adjustment from early age were perhaps the answer.  
  
What if...they implant an A.I within an infant? Human children were able to get accustomed anything as long they learn to live with it from the beginning. The child would eventually grow with the A.I until he or she came an adult, finished training and ready to serve their purpose.  
  
It was, in his opinion, the greatest and smartest idea. Proposing this idea, it gained great approval and massive popularity. Yes, why not use a human infant as a vessel for an A.I?   
  
It must be done and on the orders by the Director, it were decided that every and any employee in the entire army were going to submit the names of every child that has been born this year.

* * *

The Director searched for a perfect child. It needed to be strong, healthy and nevertheless, represent them as an icon of hope. The hope of humanity, he or she would have the greatest destiny. A child, born to become a hero.  
  
He came to the nursery ward, looking at the newborn infant and ponderin which one of them would have this honorable fate. His eyes landed on one specific child, the one closest to the window and wrapped in blankets, only wearing a pink cap on it's head. Unlike the infants that either slept or screamed for possibly nuture, this child lied awake in it's crip and cooed.  
  
Turning his attention to the chart of the infants, he looked for this child. Ah, row 5 and place 37. It was a girl. Pale green eyes,dirty blonde hair. This child was in good health, no known complication since it's birth. Strong and intelligent at the same time, that was what he was looking for.  
  
Birth date...April 1st. He ignored the year, it was this year after all. The parents. Ah, that was tragic and the army suffered great losses every year. If he weren't mistaken, then this were probably the infant whom Agent Texas had found in the wreckage of a crashed colony ship, atacked by alien enemies. How curious that hundreds of humans were killed, but a baby had survived against all odds.   
The child didn't had a name, just called  _"infant 37"_.  
  
The Director has already decided when he called over his employees of project Freelancer. "Gentlemen...this is the child, I'm sure of it." He told them and picked up the infant girl, holding her with one hand. "She will become the hope of humanity."

* * *

The child had screamed through the orderal, nothing that was unexpected as most agents did when they underdid this. But it was done now, the child was been implanted with an A.I. A very unique one, the Director had saved that for this particular one.  
  
The process was a success. The only subject science had never been able to explore was a human's soul, one of the greatest mysteries of humanity.  
  
But now that would change. The implantation was complete and the child was still alive, healthy as before.  
  
The Director smiled for his success. This child needed a name. But first, he needed to name this future agent. "Very well. From now on, her name will be Danica Quincy."  
  
On the chart, he wrote her name and named after one state that came in mind.  
  
_Agent: Danica Quincy aka_ **Agent Missouri** _._

* * *

As predicted, the child grew up. She became stronger for each passing day, she was trained through the years. She was pushed to perfection and no matter how much she evolved, her strengh and intelligence remained equal to each other.   
  
At five year old, she knew all the alpabetic letters and all the numbers. Steady and in it's pace, she learned to read sentences and calculate big numbers.   
  
At ten year old, her intelligence grew as she excelled in the subjects she were taught and her physical condition was in peak. She has learned all of the basics and excelled. It was time to increase the tougher challenges.  
  
At fourteen year old, she's already knew how most weapons worked and how to use them. She was trained in guns, rifles and soon, she was ready to learn how to drive a tank. She managed through any course and perfected her fighting skills against others.  
  
At sixteen year old, she finialized the advanced challenges and she could drive any vehicle, ground and airborn. She was put in the simulation combats, fighting against other and much older agents. The Freelancer agents realize her talents and skills, despite her young age. She was an agent, equal to them now.  
  
Eighteen year old and she was one of the most successful of the Freelancer Agents.   
  
The Director was very satisfied. This was a great success for project Freelancer, two of the most successful agents were female and one of them were the youngest.   
  
Agents Texas and Missouri was the perfections.

* * *

**January 18th, 2552  
**   
Then everything changed.  
  
The Director realized he needed to do what he had do.  
  
Agent Missouri was the only project who had been successful, after all. She was the perfect one and most of all, she was their hope.  
  
If she fell in the wrong hands or misuse, then all hard work would be to waste.  
  
_"Sir, erase her memories and replace with false is an option that cannot be regretted."_  F.I.L.S.S responded.  _"Are you sure of your decision? This change might become permanent."_  
  
"Confirmation, F.I.L.S.S." The Director replied. "This is for her own good. Update my journal."  
  
_"Affirmative."_  
  
"Logdate, February 15th 2552. I've come to a decision, crucial for the survival of humanity. Agent Missouri will become well-hidden, her memories will be erased and replaced by false ones. She will no longer be Freelancer Missouri and become reborn as Danica Quincy, an average Private. I will station her at Blood Gulch Outpost soon. No one shall ever find her true identity. The A.I will remain inside her, due to it has merged almost completely with her soul. Removing the A.I from her will result in her physical body will lose strengh and it's normal function. She will die as result. One day, she will understand and she will thank me. Missouri is gone soon and now, she will become Danica Quincy, a Red soldier and-oh, before I forget, her A.I attribute is...Hope."  
  
_"Journal updated, sir."_  
  
The Director nodded. "Thank you, F.I.L.S.S." He concluded and turned his attention toglance behind his back.   
  
The girl was in a deep slumber inside a high-technological pod, with wires attached to her head and her calm breaths were even.  
  
"This is for your own best, Missouri. You have been one of the most valuable and successful agents, but it's time for you to fly away." The Director told the asleep youth, somberly. "Not only are you an asset for the whole project, but your bright personality has brought much joy. Soon you will be safe."  
  
He turned to the device, programming new memories. A box with red letters appeared on the screen.  _"Deletion of subject's memories. Confirm or cancel?"_  
  
_**Confirm.**_  
  
Her body jerked a bit before she went still.  
  
_"Insert replacement memories in subject. Confirm or cancel?"_  
  
__**Confirm.**  

The Director sighed as he did it. Once again, her body jerked for a rather long moment before she went still again and her fingers twitched a bit. But her face remained asleep, calm as ever.

* * *

**June 27th, 2552. Red Team base, Blood Gulch  
**   
"Simmons, Grif! Get your asses down here instantly!" Sarge barked at his privates, putting an end at another argument.  
  
"UGH!" Grif groaned loudly as he followed Simmons down to the ground. "What is it now-OW!"  
  
Simmons had kicked his foot, really hard. "Shut the fuck up and Sarge might tell us."  
  
"Ladies, Command made the decision to increase our ranks here at Blood Gulch Outpost Number 1. You know what that means."  
  
Grif throw his head back and groaned. "Fuck...we're getting a rookie!"  
  
"That's right, numbnuts." Sarge complied. "The new recruit is already here, in fact." He moved at the side and revealed a short soldier, the armor was colored in salmon. "Present yourself, Private."  
  
The new recruit moved forward and removed the helmet, revealing a young woman's face with pale green eyes and unruly dirty blonde hair in a pixiecut. "Private Quincy, reporting for duty!"  
  
"What the fuck...YOU'RE A GIRL!" Grif shouted and pointed at her with an armored finger, in orange.   
  
"Yeah?" Quincy replied back in a chipper tone. "Girls can fight too, y'know."  
  
Simmons grumbled something under his breath and showed Grif aside roughly. "Ignore him! I'm Private Simmons. I'm in charge when Sarge is at Command and that asshole is Grif. He's lazy, eats the rations and is generally just an annoyance to everyone."  
  
"Everyone?! It was just you and fucking Sarge here. Oh and don't forget the Bluetards over there!" Grif pointed at the Blue base not far from there.   
  
"Alright, dirtbags!" Sarge barked at them, effectively shutting them up. "Today you two are in charge of the recruit. Take 'er and give a through tour of our base. I want it be done TODAY and we're all lookin' at you, Grif!"  
  
"Alright, alright, fine!" Grif shouted. "Ugh...hate working..."

* * *

Simmons sighed as he sat by the edge, he was on guard duty on the base's roof today and he'd prefer doing that alone.  
  
"Where the fuck is my Oreos?" He heard Grif said out loudly down inside.  
  
Simmons frowned. He usually cleaned out Grif's locker on purpose and threw away his Oreos, but he couldn't remember doing it yet this week. Unless...  
  
His train of thought ended aburted and he almost jumped out of his skin when the explosion came.  
  
"YOU FUCKING BRAT! I'M GONNA BEAT YOU UP SO HARD YOU WON'T REMEMBER NEXT WEEK!" Grif's voice roared furiously. Simmons could almost swear the surface of the base's roof were trembling of the loud volume. Thereafter, Simmons could actually hear Quincy laughing while running from Grif.  
  
Huh, if Grif was actually chasing her...then he must be really mad.  
  
Grif didn't usually got mad unless it were about his food or naps (he got rather upset when he once pointed out his weight in a bad way).  
  
Touching his Oreos seems to be his berserk button.  
  
For once, Simmons were glad he didn't needed to be in the crossfire of this fiasco. It was lucky Sarge were at Command for a meeting or this mayhem would've ended up in all of them drop to the ground and give 200 push-ups.

* * *

So...what's your story, rookie?" Simmons asked one evening.   
  
Eventually Sarge did return to the base and found a food war between mainly Grif and Quincy, but Simmons got roped in as well. As punishment, they must clean the armory all night long. Every gun and rifle were ordered to be squeaky clean.  
  
"Well, I come from a small town in Missouri. It's pretty calm, but not too much going on." Quincy replied and pondered on it. "I'm from a Jewish family, by the way. With a Mom and Dad. I was about to apply to college, but then I found out about the war and enlisted. Dad was proud, but Mom was crying up a storm and tried to make me stay. She came up with all various excuses, like breaking my leg and stuff like that."  
  
"Jewish, huh." Simmon remarked as he polished a rifle. "I'm Dutch-Irish, not too exciting though. I wasn't really drafted, I signed up as well."  
  
Quincy shrugged. "Well, you don't seem like the type to do that by your own will. How about you, Grif?"  
  
"Hawaii. Mom left me and my sis, so it was just us. And it's the usual, got fucking drafted." He replied. "Ugh...I hate this fucking job!"  
  
"You hate anything that involves work!" Simmon scolded him. "You're the laziest and most annoying idiot I ever met, fat ass!"  
  
"Better than being a fucking sucker for Sarge, kiss ass!" Grif shot back.

* * *

"Hey, check that out, Church!" Tucker shouted and gestured for him to come closer.   
  
Church groaned irritated. "What the fuck do you want, Tucker?"  
  
Then he saw there were a new recruit at the Reds. This one was shorter than the three stationed soldiers and in a salmon armor.  
  
"The Reds got themselves a rookie. You think it's a chick?" Tucker said.  
  
"Why would it be a damn chick, Tucker. That's all on your fucking mind!" Church said and picked up the sniper rifle. "Hang on, I'm gonna check out if the new Red's gonna be trouble and blow up our asses."  
  
"See anything?" Tucker asked. "Is it a chick? Or a guy? Are they talking?"  
  
"Calm the fuck down, I haven't even gotten five goddamn minutes to check them out!" Church snapped at his teammate. "Hm...got still the helmet on, hard to tell. The new rookie is with the orange one."  
  
"Ah, that fucking asshole Grif?"  
  
"I know his fucking name, Tucker! Okay, they're taking of their helmets...ah fuck, it's a chick!" Church said, but he didn't sank down the rifle. "Hm...she doesn't look too bad. Dirty blonde pixiecut, look pretty young."  
  
"Check her out then." Tucker said.  
  
"I AM fucking checking her out-"  
  
"Bow chicka bow wow~!"  
  
"You know what? I fucking hate you, cut that crap off!" Church snapped at him and sank the rifle.  
  
He sure hoped that girl wouldn't be a trouble.


	2. Roses Are Red, Violets Are Blue - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A simple patrol with the Warthog. Grif is driving, Quincy called shotgun and Simmons is the lookout by the machinegun.
> 
> What could possibly go wrong?
> 
> Everything.

**Blood Gulch Outpost 1, 2552  
**  
"You're going the wrong way!"  
  
"How would you know? You never pay any attention where the hell we are!"  
  
"Shut up, kiss ass!"  
  
"No, you shut up, fat ass! This wouldn't happened if you paid any attention to-OH FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, STOP FUCKING SMOKING, DAMN IT!"  
  
"Fucking make me, fansy-pansy kiss ass!"   
  
"GRIF, FOR FUCK'S SAKE!"   
  
Quincy's head, covered by her helmet, jerked awake from a short-lived, ten seconds nap and then shit hit the fan.   
  
What was supposed to be a patrol turned into a fiasco. Grif was driving the Warthog as usual and Simmons were watching overhead by the shotgun in the back (she managed to call shotgun before him) while she were singing lowly due to boredom.   
  
She were just drifting into a nap when Simmons suddenly yelled something about Grif pay attention to the road than to lighting a cigarette and the next thing they knew, the Warthog were in a ditch and all of the were thrown onto the ground in a rather clumsy and painful manner.  
  
"Great...just motherfucking great, Grif. You had one job!" Simmons ranted, obviously irritated at the situation. "ONE FUCKING JOB, IDIOT!"  
  
"Cut the horseshit scolding, fucking nerd." Grif yelled back at him and groaned. "Ugh...my head! And this is your fault, this is why I smoke inside the goddamn helmet!"  
  
Quincy has been coming around for a moment while they were arguing, she heard them argue something about a cigarette and she were too dizzy to focus on them. Her head were throbbing in pain, her muscles were weak as jelly and it generally felt as if her entire body were an earthquake.  
  
Her eyes stared at the visor display  from inside the helmet, turning her attention to a small red message at the corner.  
  
 _Radio Transmission Unit damaged. Repairs required immediately._  
  
Oh shit...  
  
Quincy grasped her hands on the helmet and yanked it off her head, meeting fresh air for the first time since they left the base this morning. "Are you guys okay?" She shouted at them, they were pretty much spread around the area where they crashed.  
  
Or rather, where the Warthog is stuck in a ditch.  
  
"Who the fuck would be okay after this bullshit?!" Grif yelled back at her, already angered enough by bicking with Simmons.  
  
Yeah, they were okay. This was pretty much like any other day. If Grif weren't angry at Simmons and vice versa, then she would've been seriously worried.  
  
She crawled up onto her feet, stumbling a bit and dropped her helmet on the ground. "Okay...okay, can we try get the Warthog off the ditch?"  
  
Simmons turned his attention at the vehicle, ignoring that Grif did the mature and blew a raspberry at him. He used the helmet to scan how big the damage was and calculated their success rate for getting it unstuck. "Hm...yeah, it's totally stuck in that ditch and no way we can get it off."  
  
Quincy ran towards the Warthog and behind it, trying to lift it from beneath it's bumper by body strenght. "HHHGN!" She gasped and tried to get it unstuck.   
  
"It's not gonna work like that, Quincy!" Simmons exclaimed. "Stop it, stop it-FOR FUCK'S SAKE, JUST LET IT GO!"  
  
She let it go and collapsed on her back at the ground, wheezing for air exhausted. "I-I could've done that all day..."  
  
"Hell no, you probably either break or tear away your arms as result." Simmons scoffed. "Hm...what if all of us try your method at once?" He said, mostly to himself and pondered over it. Once again, he used his helmet to calculate. "Hrm...yeah, that's no go. Even with our combined strength, us three."  
  
Grif groaned irritated ad loudly. "Motherfucking shit!" He shouted and kicked the Warthog at the side.  
  
"And of course, this shit happens while Sarge is at Command!" Simmons sighed, growing annoyed. "Great, just fucking great."  
  
"Lopez is still at the base." Quincy pointed out.  
  
"What the hell is El Roboto gonna do us any good, he can't even talk shit and ignores us on daily basis!" Grif snorted. "Nah, we probably gonna spend the night here."  
  
Quincy broke into a huge grin.  
  
"What the hell are you smirking about?" Simmons questioned and raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Because it's gonna be like camping and a slumber party when we spend the night here, it's gonna be fun!" Quincy explained and almost bounces lightly on her feet.  
  
Simmons' right eye twitched. " _Fun_..?!" He repeated, not believing this girl. "Quincy, this is serious! We're at war with the Blue ones and here you saying we're having a fucking camp-"  
  
"Hey, she got a point. Finally a reason for me to eat those mashmallows I snuck from the base and Sarge isn't even here to ruin it!" Grif suddely agreed and went to the Warthog, pulling out a big package of mashmallows from somewhere he knew he hid it.  
  
"Alright, that's it!" Simmons said frustrated. "One stupid teammate wants to camp out here and the other, equally stupid teammate only think about fucking food!"  
  
"Well, smartass! You got any better ideas?" Grif countered.  
  
Simmons didn't.  


* * *

The hours went by and the sun were starting to set.   
  
Since the incident with the Warthog, Simmons had managed to set up a protective camp in the place they were currently at. It seemed like they were somewhere in the outskirts of Blood Gulch and by pure coincidence, the jeep crashed in the ditch right by some trees and stone blocks.  
  
Grif's back were leaned against a tree, napping in the shade with arms behind his head and snoring loudly.   
  
"Unbelievable..." Simmons muttered as he were putting the final touches to set up the spare tent. "Not even when we're stranded far from the base...I've never seen such slacker like Grif before!"  
  
Quincy couldn't hold off the amused grin that appeared on her face. They were so funny, bickering even when Grif were asleep. She didn't met Simmons' frown of disapproval aimed at her, however and she turned her attention to trying to lit up a fire.  
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
"Making a fire." Quincy said. "You know, the first thing people do when they're stranded and has to survive.  
  
Simmons were alarmed instantly. "You can't do that, that's how the enemies will be aware of our presence!"  
  
"What enemies?" Quincy said confused.  
  
"The Blues, idiot!"  
  
"Ohhh, them!" She said and then shrugged. "I don't think they're around here. Otherwise they would've attacked by now."  
  
Simmons sat down at some lone stone and buried his face with his armor-covered hands, groaning exhausted. "Fucking great...one is fucking asleep and the other wants to make a damn fire..."  
  
"How else are we supposed to eat the beans?"  
  
"What beans?!" Simmons said.  
  
"These!" Quincy chirped and held up a metal can, with the ipicture of a brown bean in front. "I don't know if it's brown beans or white beans in tomato sauce, I usually prefer them. But worth a try."  
  
Simmons sighed and gave up. "Ok, fine. Just because we need to camp for the night and we need some food-"  
  
"Did someone said food?"  
  
Grif has finally woken up, he yawned and stretched his arms before he got up onto his feet and went to his teammates. "Making a fire, lil' Q?" He remarked and referred one of the less insulting nicknames for Quincy. "Good, cause I'm starving out here-"  
  
"Instead for letting her do all the work, you could go and find some firewood, Grif." Simmons hissed, he finally had enough of the orange one's lax attitude. "It isn't fair that we two has to work while you sit on your ass all day and does nothing than eat and sleep." He continued and then he narrowed his eyes when Grif just opened the bag of mashmallows and ate them one by one. "Oh, for fuck's sake...stop eating the mashmallows, damn it!"  
  
"Fucking make me, nerd." Grif smirked and ate another one.  
  
Simmons were seething at this point, making Quincy snicker. He ignored the immature girl and kept nagging at Grif. "At this rate, you might actually turn into a mashmallow yourself!"  
  
"You're a mashmallow." Grif shot back and stuff two more into his mouth.  
  
"Oh, what a great comeback, Grif." Simmons said sarcastically and rolled his eyes.   
  
Grif tempted fate by stuffing himself with four more and Simmons had enough. He marched to Grif and snatched the bag of sweets from his hands. "I'm keeping this hostage until you actually make an effort to help out here. I'm trying to fix the tent, Quincy is making a fire and you are going to gather firewood, today!"  
  
The orange one groaned. "That sounds like work."  
  
"Cause it IS work, Grif. Now, get your act together or I'll tell Sarge you crashed the Warthog again!"  
  
Grif growled, he stomped off to find firewood and muttered something to him, but none of either Simmons or Quincy heard what it was. Perhaps it was better they didn't since Grif probably said something really dirty about Simmons.  


* * *

The sun had set almost completely by the time Quincy managed to get a fire going on. Well, to be honest, she was actually failing by the time Grif returned with firewood and she began to get impatient and threw some logs on the very weak and small fire she managed to do.   
  
It went out and Grif decided to use his lighter instead, which Simmons yelled at him for keeping away. Nevertheless, a fire were going in some minutes and Simmons cooked food. Turns out the cans were mislabeled and it was white beans in tomato sauce.   
  
"Grif, I found sticks for mashmallows!" Quincy shouted from where she came from, the small portion of woods.  
  
"Whoa, whoa. Who said I was gonna share them?" Grif objected and she deflated.  
  
Simmons glared at him. "Grif, that was so un-fucking-believably selfish of you!" He berated him.  
  
"I can offer something in exchange!" Quincy quickly said. "Favors?"  
  
Grif's brown eyes lit up and he smirked. "Alright, you make my bed every morning and guard my hidden snackbox from Sarge. Deal?"  
  
"Deal!" Quincy agreed and they shook hands on it. Grif answered with grabbing a stick from her and pierced three mashmallows on it.   
  
A thick silence fell between them. Simmons focused on cooking the dinner, he had used up three cans in the metal pot he found inside the survival kit that was in the back of the Warthog. Grif and Quincy were roasting some mashmallows. It was completely dark by now, the skies were pitch black with millions of shining stars above them and the only light came from the fireplace.  
  
Quincy's mouth got a bit sticky by the melting mashmallow, which made Grif laugh at her and Simmons sighed at their antics, handing over his clean handkerchief for her.   
  
Soon enough, dinner was done and they ate in the tin bowls that were included in the survival kit.   
  
"Yum!" Quincy said cheerful and ate of her portion, she did like whte beans in tomato sauce. It was always good. The only thing that could stop that was pea soup with bits of pork.  
  
"More!" Grif said and poured another serving to himself.   
  
Simmons rolled his eyes. "Grif, take it easy with the food-"  
  
"Please, this is just my second bowl!" Grif scoffed and ate again. Simmons sighed and gave up, he returned to eating his dinner as well and despite what he said, he did found this...enjoyable.  


* * *

"How long is nights here, Simmons?"  
  
The redhead sighed again. "Around 5 hours, I think. The days are really long here and nights are short."  
  
"Okay." Quincy said and stared up in the celings of the tent.   
  
They went to bed and lied there for an hour ago, but she couldn't sleep. She lied in the middle, between Simmons and Grif on each side. She felt it would be better like it, since they always fought so much. Their armor pieces lied at the corners inside the tent, neither of them liked sleeping in heavy armor and even Simmons gave up on that, so they slept in only the black undersuits.  
  
Quincy turned her head to her left side, unable to sleep. Simmons had taken off his glasses and seemed to sleep, his eyes were closed and his chest rose and sank calmly.   
  
"Simmons?"   
  
Not a sound. Usually Simmons always answer at slightest sound, but now she were sure he was asleep. She turned to the right side. "Grif?" She whispered.  
  
A loud snore told her that Grif was fast sleep, which wasn't the slightest surprising at all. Quincy returned to staring at the tent's roof, awake and something in her guts didn't wanted to settle.  
  
Maybe a little walk wouldn't hurt.  
  
Quincy carefully lifted off her blanket and sat up, cautious enough to not wake them up. It was silly to just wake them up, because she couldn't sleep. She felt anxious for no reason and she were pretty sure they would be annoyed of her again.  
  
She put on her shoes and silently ventured outside the tent. The fireplace were cold and empty, the fire had gone out hours ago and Simmons had thrown some dirt on it, just to be safe.   
  
Quincy hestitated for a moment before she kept going, maybe there were a spring of clear water somewhere so she could get a sip.  
  
She walked behind the tent and further, trying to navigate in the darkness. It was hard, but she managed as her eyes adjusted to the dark by now.   
  
And then she fell.  
  
Her foot accidently stepped on a loose stone and she yelped, sliding down a slope before she rolled on the ground and hit something concrete and hard. 

"Ouch..." She whined.  
  
"Who's there?!" A voice shouted and Quincy felt her blood run cold. That didn't sounded like Simmons or Grif.   
  
Or even Sarge.  
  
She closed her eyes tightly when a bright light blinded her. She dared to open an eye for a moment and saw two taller men, their armor in ligt blue respective teal, shone a flashlight each at her.   
  
"Fuck..." She mumbled. This was when she knew she were in trouble, without either armor or weapon.  
  
Leonard L. Church smirked down to her. "Far away from the base, isn't that right...little Red?"


	3. Roses are Red, Violets are Blue - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Quincy is taken hostage at Blue Base and meets Church and Tucker for the first time. While she befriends the enemy, Simmons and Grif has to face Sarge's wrath.

**Previously in _Roses are Red, Violets are Blue_** **...**

_She closed her eyes tightly when a bright light blinded her. She dared to open an eye for a moment and saw two taller men, their armor in light blue respective teal, shone a flashlight each at her._  
  
"Fuck..." She mumbled. This was when she knew she were in trouble, without either armor or weapon.  
  
Leonard L. Church smirked down to her. "Far away from the base, isn't that right...little Red?"

* * *

 

**Blood Gulch, the Campsite**

_  
_Simmons had just begun to wake up that morning and Grif, by pure coincidence actually woke up before him. He had been perfectly content by snuggling that warm yet thin pillow.  
  
Warm...pillow? Grif fought to open his eyes, stil tired. But something felt wrong. Brown eyes stared at the scandalous scene before him.  
  
He was hugging Simmons. Simmons!   
  
"YUCK!" Grif shouted and flew off him quickly as if he's been burned, but not before accidently kicking Simmons at the back.  
  
Simmons groaned and woke up right away, he had for once quite a good dream before he suddenly were kicked from behind. "Grif, what the hell is wrong with you? You don't kick others in the sleep!" Simmons ranted at him, growing more irritated.   
  
Grif didn't answered since he looked around, searching for..."Where's Quincy?" He interrupted.  
  
"What?"  
  
"She's fucking gone, Simmons!" Grif shouted at him, beginning to panic.   
  
Simmons tried to keep calm, but he were slowly freaking out as well. "Don't worry, she's probably outside...making breakfast or maybe toilet business..." He grabbed his suit of armor and dressed up. "I gonna check outside!"  
  
The maroon soldier marched out of the tent and looked around himself for a familiar, salmon-colored armor suit or the mop of brown hair.   
  
No, he couldn't see any sign of Quincy. The Warthog were still stuck in a ditch, the fireplace were stonecold since last night and no sign of the girl anywhere!  
  
Grif suddenly emerged from the tent. "Her armor is still inside here tent!" He said. "Fuck! Where did that brat go?!"  
  
"This is bad...this is so bad..." Simmons were now 100% freaking out, he was responsible while their leader were gone at Command and he could be inbound anytime! "Grif, this is the end! If Sarge returns, then our heads will roll!"  
  
"I know, kiss ass!" Grif yelled back at him. "He's gonna fucking kill us with that shotgun."  
  
"It wasn't enough crashing the Warthog, but now we lost Quincy...he's gonna be so furious at us!" Simmons sat down on a rock, he felt defeated and didn't knew what to say. "Grif, are you good at excuses?"  
  
"You mean, like lying? Hell yeah, I lie all the time for Sarge." Grif said with a shrug. "Like when I'm out at patrol, I'm really just taking a nap."  
  
Simmons narrowed his eyes in disapproval, but shook it off when he realized this wasn't the time now. One main issue was Quincy were gone and they didn't knew why.  
  
Grif took his silence as he could look around the area. "Hey, look at this! There's Blue Base!" He yelled and gestured to Simmons to look.  
  
He was right, Simmons discovered as they saw the base with the blue flag down a slide not far from them. It didn't took him a long time to connect these two facts. Quincy is gone, they're close to the Blue Base...  
  
She's taken prisoner.  
  
That's the only logical explaination.  
  
"Grif."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"We are fucked." __  


* * *

**Blood Gulch Outpost Alpha One, Blue Base**

__  
"So...you're a girl, huh?" The soldier in aqua-colored armor smirked at their prisoner, who were currently tied in a chair. "I knew there had to be at least a chick in this dead canyon."  
  
Quincy blinked slowly. "Does it matter I'm a girl? You're weird!" She snickered.  
  
Church rolled his eyes. "Ignore him. That's Tucker, he's an idiot. I'm Church, leader of Blue-"  
  
"You're not the leader, our captain died!" Tucker protested. "You're a Private like me!"  
  
"Sorry your captain died." Quincy spoke up, suddenly feeling sorry for them. They must be lonely and she still had Sarge, after all. "Was he old?"  
  
Church sighed. "No, he just got an aspirin overdose. No one knew he were allergic." He explained before he caught himself. "Why am I telling this to you, you're the prisoner!" He exclaimed.   
  
"Dude, you just told her-"  
  
"Shut up, Tucker." Church hissed. "And you, why were you sneaking around our base in the middle of night?" He pointed his service gun in direction at the girl. "And no tricks, Red!"  
  
"I couldn't sleep in the tent, so I walked around and fell down a slide. Then I crashed against the base and you guys came." Quincy explained. "I think I missed breakfast now." She said after she felt how her stomach growled.   
  
"Tent..what the hell?" Church said. "What the fuck were you doing with a tent?!"  
  
"We and the guys camped in a tent cause the car fell in a ditch and Sarge is at Command." She said with a shrug. "You guys got any food around here?"  
  
Tucker broke down in gysterical laughter. "Those Red assholes got stuck in a ditch and they camped?! What a bunch of idiots!"  
  
"It was my idea to camp." Quincy remarked. "We were stranded anyways, so better make it better and more fun with camping in a tent!" She added cheerfully.  
  
"Dude, she can't be a spy for the Reds. She just spilled everything!" Tucker told the other. "C'mon, man! She's just a kid!"  
  
Church sighed, tired of this nonsense. This kid wouldn't harm a fly, it seemed and it didn't made any sense that she should be with the Reds, let alone in the army. Also, Tucker was right and he would never admit it loud.  
  
"Okay, alright..." Church lowered his gun in defeat, he tucked it away and thought for a moment while Tucker decided to untie the girl, promising food for her. "Hey, Tucker..."  
  
The teal soldier turned to him. "Yeah?"  
  
"I've been thinking...we could keep her as hostage and next time the Reds tries to attack, we can use her to negotiate."  
  


Tucker thought for a moment. "Dude, sounds great. But what should we trade her for?"

 

"Maybe a sniper rifle? We have two of them anyways." Quincy chirped and the two Blues stared at her. "Think about it! You guys get a sniper rifle and we have ours, we'll just even out the odds!"

 

Church gestured to Tucker to come with him as they walked to a corner, leaving the girl alone. She were tied up anyways and couldn't escape. "Listen, Tucker. That sounds too good deal as offer."

 

"But she's a Red and she suggested it!" Tucker hissed back.

 

"I know!" Church growled and glanced behind himself, the girl just whistled some kind of song for herself and hummed quietly. "Alright, that kid won't harm anyone. Just look at her!"

 

Quincy didn't seemed to pay them any notice and continue singing lowly for herself, as means for entertainment. "Roses are red, violets are blue...~" She mumbled out. "One day we'll cruise, down Blood Gulch avenue...~"

 

"Dude, we'll take that deal." Tucker muttered to his best friend. "That chick is too cute."

 

Church nodded. "Besides...I'd really want a sniper rifle since you broke the one we had."

 

* * *

 

**Blood Gulch, the Campsite**

 

Everything were packed away, making the campsite looking just as lone and empty as they arrived yesterday. But it did little to ease on Simmons' already tense nerves as he sat on a rock and kept muttering examples for excuses to Sarge.

 

Grif were behind the wheel in the Warthog and tried to start it, but to no help. The engine was dead after being exposed to the sun for so many hours. It were only dark for a few hours here, but that did little.

 

"Alright, I give up! The car is fucked." Grif declared as he threw up his hands in defeat. "We did our best and that is what counts. No one can possible ask us for more-"

 

"Sarge's gonna kill us...oh God, Sarge is gonna kill me!" Simmons panicked. "I was left in charge and everything is fucked up!" He stood up and kicked at everything he could see. "The damn car is dead!" He kicked a rock out of his way. "Quincy is gone!" This time, a tree branch went flying from his kicks. "And I'm stuck with the universe's biggest, fucking idiot to fatass!"

 

"Hey, calm your tits!" Grif protested and dodged from a flying rock Simmons just attempted to throw at him. "Don't sweat it, the runt's probably alright."

 

Simmons groaned and buried his face into his hands. "I can't stand to think about Quincy...she must be so alone and scared."

 

* * *

 

**Blood Gulch Outpost Alpha One, Blue Base**

 

"Why don't we have orange juice at Red base?" Quincy chirped as she downed her second glass of orange juice before she picked up a biscuit and took a bite. "It's a travesty!"

 

Church said across the dining table in the common areas, facing the prisoner with crossed arms. "Yeah, that's great. What the hell do you guys drink then?"

 

"There's only strawberry Yoohoos in the fridge, but they're Sarge's. But there's always water." Quincy answered with a casual shrug and picked up one grilled sandwich which Church took time to make for her. Tucker were up at the lookout and keeping watch for any of the Reds to appear or rather, attack.

 

Church rolled his eyes a bit. This kid wouldn't harm a fly. But why the hell would a runt like her enlist in the army? He shook away those thoughts from his mind, it was none of his business. "Okay, I hope you're not allergic or has, like, a fucking lactose intolerance. I don't have time for that bullshit."

 

"Nah, I'm good." Quincy grinned and took a big bite of her grilled sandwich. She moaned in delight. "I love melt cheese...." She sighed ad took another bite, the taste of roasted bread and it's components were delicious. 

 

Slices of crispy bacon, melted cheese and hot tomatoes were such a delightful pleasure for her. Suddenly she understood Grif's love for food much more now.

 

"I'd take as you liked it and I didn't accidently poisoned you." Church scoffed, but he wore a smile regardless. That little kid were growing on him. 

 

* * *

 

**Blood Gulch, Somewhere Near the Red Base  
**

 

"C'mon, men! Move it!" Sarge barked at his soldiers, clearly enraged over how everything had gone straight to hell and obviously, Grif was the fault to everything. "Double time!"

 

"Why...double...time?!" Grif panted as he tried to keep up with running, it wasn't in his forte at all! 

 

Simmons ran beside him, he were beginning to feel a bit worn of the running. But his worry for Quincy kept him going, although it were mostly guilt that fueled his concerns. "This wouldn't happened if you kept your eyes on her!"

 

"I was supposed to watch her?!" Grif shouted at him. "You fucker, you were asleep like me when she went out! And for the record, why the hell would that dumbass go outside in the middle of night? That's retarded!"

 

Sarge growled at them. "Stop arguing, you two!" He snapped at them, effectively shutting them up. "Simmons, I'm entirely disappointed in you! Grif, this is pretty much part of the course! You both failed!"

 

The maroon soldier sighed as they kept running back to the canyon, they were getting closer now to their base. He felt very ashamed of this incident and Sarge expressing his disappointment over him were dreadful.

 

Simmons reflected on the last hour, where Sarge found them with the crashed Jeep and he had to explain everything that happened, from where they went on a patrol and got stuck in a ditch, camped overnight and to the part where they discovered Quincy was gone in the morning.

 

He should've guessed why Sarge didn't said a single word or interrupted him once. But then both he and Grif got a hard hit on their helmetless heads with the back of Sarge's shotgun, they had shouted in pain and whined while their superior officer yelled at them for being irresponsible and he quickly drew the conclusion that Quincy were prisoner at the Blue base.

 

In hindsight...Simmons felt as he should've seen that coming. He just hoped their youngest teammate were okay and not tortured in any form.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS! I'm really, REALLY sorry that I haven't updated in so long...two months. Oh man, I gotta step up my game now. 
> 
> I got a reason why I haven't updated for so long. I have gotten sick and had a lot of health issues that had kept me on homerest for more than a month. Which means I have lost valuable time in school. I've got gallstones which is a bitch generally. I don't know when this will be resolved, hopefully I'll get a date for surgery soon.
> 
> Anyways, I'm gonna start with more updates and you won't be disapponted because this is only the beginning. :3
> 
> Cheerio!
> 
> \- Lunan95


	4. Roses are Red, Violets are Blue - Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Quincy befriends the Blues and Tucker teaches her to play Poker. The Reds attacks the Blue Base and Quincy agrees to become a hostage.
> 
> Church plans to give her back to the Reds in exchange for...Grif's sniper rifle.
> 
> And Simmons is a fucking motherhen.

**Previously in Roses are Red, Violets are Blue...**   
  
_In hindsight...Simmons felt as he should've seen that coming. He just hoped their youngest teammate were okay and not tortured in any form._   
  


* * *

 

**Blood Gulch Outpost Alpha One, Blue Base**

"So...how long have you been in this shitty box canyon?"

 

Quincy were convinced that her team were gonna come and get her. What Church found weird is she acted like she had a sleepover in their base and the Reds were her...sorta family coming to get her "home". He didn't exactly understood how she could be so optimistic, but she grew on him and Tucker.

 

Tucker...while he had his attention somewhere else, that fucker were teaching the girl stupid shit like saying his dumb catch phrase "bow chicka bow wow" after any sexual reference, weather it's accidental or not.

 

Quincy had a round, almost childish face despite she were a grown adult like them. Church found it strange of how comfortable he felt around her, in a familiar way. Like a deja-vu.

 

"Not for very long, maybe a year or so." Quincy replied. Tucker had kept her busy by teaching her how to play poker with some cards he owned. "I don't remember much from basic, they said I hit my head on some mission and then I got reassigned to this place."

 

Church crossed his arms as he frowned. That sounded oddly familiar, like his first day here at Blood Gulch. Flowers said he had hit his head during the first day in the base and it affected his memory.

 

"Lucky you got here, cause things were getting boring." Tucker smirked and made his move, making Quincy groan disappointed and glare at her cards in her hands. "Boring eough that I had to play with my dick-"

 

"Tucker!" Church hissed irritated. 

 

"What?! We're all adults here!" He shot back.

 

Church weren't convinced. "C'mon man, she's a girl! Besides no one wanna hear about your alone time."

 

"You're just pissed that I got my own rock." Tucker retorted, looking at his teammate in the eyes. 

 

Quincy realized he had his back turned as he argued with Church. She smirked as she reached and exchanged some of her cards to some new ones from the deck on the table.

 

Grif once taught her that if she were on the risk of losing...a little cheating never hurt anyone. He showed her how to be quick with her hands, no matter what she would cheat in. 

 

Simmons has never gotten so red-faced before when he realized what Grif taught her and Quincy remembered how she lied awake on her bunk bed and watched them yelling at each other until Sarge barged in and shouted at them to shut up and go to bed.

 

"What are you laughing at?" Tucker were back and stared at the younger with a raised eyebrow.

 

"Oh, I just thought back at something. Grif taught me some neat trick and Simmons yelled so much at him. That was funny." Quincy replied with a grin.

 

"Oh yeah, how is it living with the Reds?" Tucker asked as he checked through his cards. He hadn't noticed anything at all, Quincy realized.

 

She shrugged. "Uh, it's a challenge. I get best along with Grif, he's like a big brother I always wanted." Quincy answered as she thought back at the orange solider. Grif, who always dug up a cigarette when they hang around, with a deep Hawaiian tan and his dark, slightly long hair tied in a ponytail.

 

"He's usually lazy, but at least he's smart." Church replied from his spot by the kitchen counter he leaned against, drinking a glass of water. "Grif's a crafty son of a bitch."

 

"Simmons is smart too!" Quincy quickly shot back and blinked at her own surprise. Did she just defended Simmons? Hell yes, she did. "He's just more...you know, smart in nerd stuff. Like Star Wars, spreadsheets and...math." She grimaced when she recalled Simmons being his usual, boring self with talking about mathematical theories.

 

No wonder Grif took a fucking nap back then, she had been ready to nod off.

 

Tucker snorted. "He's a fucking know-it-all, Grif always complains over him when he came over once."

 

"Grif was here once?" Quincy asked in surprise. Grif had never told her he went to Blue base. Then again, Sarge would probably threw a fit.

 

"Yup. He exchanged some bottles for cigarettes, a good trade." Church smirked. "I still got that Captain Morgan bottle."

 

"Aaah, spiced rum is the best!" Quincy blurted out with a grin before she caught herself.

 

Huh? Why did she said that? She were like, twenty. She had never drank any alcohol...except that sip of whiskey when Grif raided Sarge's not-so-secret whiskey lair in the basement and nagged at him until he let her taste it. It was disgusting and burned her throat so badly that she has to run upstairs, to drink at least five glasses of water.

 

"Hey, you're okay?" Church seemed to caught on her sudden...inner conflict? Yeah, that'll do.

 

She gave a nod. "Yeah, I'm good. I just thought of something."

 

"Aw, she's bragging again." Tucker smirked. "Thinking too much isn't good for you, your brain is gonna fucking boil."

 

"Speak for yourself, cockbite." Quincy returned the smirk as Tucker looked taken back by her retort and Church flashed a smug grin.

 

* * *

 

**Somewhere in Blood Gulch**

 

Grif rolled his eyes. "Sarge, with all due respect...that was the shittiest plan I ever heard."

 

"Operation Meatshield is perfect!" Sarge scoffed as they marched towards the Blue base in determination. At least their red, fearless leader did as Grif dragged his feet to slow down the entire plan and Simmons trailed after Sarge quickly.

 

"Sir, I think we need to think through this-" Simmons started. Asmuch he liked to go through with his sergeant's orders, he rather liked it if they put Quincy's priority as main focus.

 

"Negative, Simmons!" Sarge shot back and cocked his shotgun ready, prepared for anything. Or everything, in his case. "Time is of importance. Those dirty Blues had our young private captive since middle of night. They must be doing absolutely diabolical things to her!"

 

Simmons felt how all blood drained from his face, his mind went wild of horrofic imaginations as he pictured what kind of horrible torture they were putting her through.

 

Quincy annoyed him, yes. But she were just a girl and barely an adult, Quincy didn't understood how dangerous things could get. He were sure that she wouldn't harm a fly!

 

"Prepare men to retrieve our young whippersnapper!" Sarge barked out his orders and aimed his shotgun at Blue base. "Remember, Simmons. When Grif sacrifices his life for this operation, you grab Quincy and we'll head back to Blue base."

 

Grif made an ugly grimace behind Sarge's back at the mention that he were going to "die" accourding to Sarge's crazy plan.

 

"Very well, sir." Simmons said, less excited than he would've been normally. His mind were too preoccupied of being worried for Quincy's wellbeing.

 

* * *

 

**Blood Gulch Outpost Alpha One, Blue Base**

Tucker threw down his cards at the table, pissed off. "Okay, this is fucking bullshit!" He threw out. "I get you win first time, beginner's luck. But not a second time!"

 

"What are you talking about? She won fair and square!" Church protested. Of course, he had seen her cheat once Tucker's back were turned against her, but he rather liked her to win than Tucker. He were bitching about he were the best at poker and seriously, Church were fucking sick of that.

 

So what if she cheated? Never hurt anyone...except Tucker's pride.

 

"You're just jealous cause I'm good and-"

 

**_BOOM_ **

 

"Son of a bitch!" Church shouted as the floor shook once something exploded outside. "The fuck is happening?!"

 

"Oh...the guys are here!" Quincy shouted, far to happy as she ran to see through the window. "Yeah, it's Sarge and...OH MY GOD, _NO_!" She suddenly screamed and scrambled backwards to get out of the small window.

 

_**BOOM** _

 

This time, all of them were thrown off the floor and collided at the wall behind them. Window glass shattered at the floor and the furniture had spread around the living space.

 

"Those fuckers threw a grenade at the window!" Quincy yelled and took cover behind the flipped table. "I'm gonna fucking kill them in their sleep!"

 

Church looked at her. "God damn it, didn't they even saw you in the window?!"

 

"...I think Simmons saw me, I made eye contact for a second." Quincy replied, she were far unluckier than the Blues. At least they had their armor on while she only had her black undersuit.

 

Damn it, why didn't she put on her armor when she went outside last night? That was a stupid move.

 

"Okay, Tucker." Church said as he reached for his helmet and put in on. "We'll go with the plan now when the fucking Reds are here and attacking us. Get outside and yell to the Reds that we're open for negontiations in exchange for Quincy. I'll come back with the squirt soon."

 

Tucker sighed irritated. "I'm only doing this so we can't get a sniper rifle..." He muttered and went out from the room, leaving him alone with the...Red girl.

 

Church turned his attention to Quincy, she looked sour and glared at the floor. "Hey, squirt. You're okay?"

 

It took her a long while to respond. "I think I'm gonna pour all of the salt in Sarge's stupid whiskey." Quincy remarked.

 

He chuckled. "Well, good luck with that. Send me the result later." He said as he grabbed her wrist and dragged her up from the floor, heading outside.

 

* * *

 

**Blood Gulch, several yards from Blue Base**

 

"Sarge...Sarge, wait!" Simmons shouted once he saw Quincy's head peak through the small window at Blue base. He turned around to face their leader...just in time to see Sarge throw something in the same direction where Simmons just saw Quincy. "SARGE, NO!"

 

BOOM

 

Simmons were ready to almost strangle their leader at this point. The grenade had exploded the window and there were no sign of their youngest soldier anywhere! "Sarge, are you crazy?! Quincy were right there!"

 

"Huh." Sarge seemed to stop up at that. "Ah, she'll be alright."

 

"You threw a fucking grenade at her, Sarge!" Grif yelled at him. "She's gonna be pissed now. Some rescue this is..." He muttered.

 

"HEY!" 

 

The three Red soldiers turned their attention to their side, seeing...

 

Quincy! And she were in company with those two Blue guys in teal armor and the light-blue armor.

 

Simmons let out a relieved exhale, she were safe. Quincy didn't have cuts, holes or missing limbs. She were okay. In fact...she looked like she weren't harmed at all! But how could that be...?

 

Unless she came up with stupid pop culture references again and bugged the Blue guys.

 

"YA DIRTY BLUES!" Sarge ran towards the hill and shouted at them, he stopped and aimed his shotgun at them. "RELEASE OUR RED WHIPPERSNAPPER!"

 

Grif came up behind him. "Yeah, we want our brat back! Annoying and all!"

 

"Only if you guys surrender!" Tucker yelled at them.

 

Quincy looked at them and Church gave a firm nod. It was time. "Guys, listen at them!" She yelled to her team. "They are willing to give me back in exchange for a sniper rifle!"

 

Grif stared down at the sniper rifle he had. "Aw, crap..." He groaned as both Sarge and Simmons turned around at him.

 

"Grif, give it up." Sarge ordered.

 

"What? No way, it's mine!" Grif protested and cradled his sniper rifle. "It's mine, you said so on the first day!"

 

"Situation has changed, numbnuts." Sarge were relentless and crossed his arms, glaring at the orange soldier. "Grif!"

 

"Grif, for God's sake...just give up the sniper rifle!" Simmons added and glared at him. "We just order Command to give us another one! It's for Quincy's sake!"

 

"Fuck that, she's okay!" Grif refused to give up.

 

Simmons stared in disbelief. "You're an asshole, Grif! You rather keep that fucking sniper rifle than give it up so Quincy can return alive to us?!"

 

"Maybe!" Grif shot back, but he were starting to doubt as he looked across the plains. Quincy stood there, guarded by two Blue assholes and without any armor or weapons. He hated how she looked at him so expectantly.

 

Simmons were beginning to lose his patience. "Grif, is Quincy's life really worth that stupid rifle?"

 

"Grif, if you don't give that sniper rifle to the Bluetards this instant, then you give me no choice..." Sarge growled and raised his shotgun at Grif, ready to shoot him. "I'll be counting, turdbelly."

 

Grif looked over at the Blues, Quincy were still standing there and she looked ridiculously small for some reason. Ugh...why does she have to remind him of his own little sister back at Earth? Grif suddenly felt like the sniper rifle maybe wasn't worth to hold on if it meant the Blues were gonna shoot Quincy.

 

The Blues had their pistols ready, pointed at her if they tried anything or refused the trade.

 

Sarge growled as he grew impatient. "Five mississippi, six mississippi..."

 

"Alright, FINE!" Grif finally shouted and took several steps forward. "Hey, Blue fuckers! You get the fucking sniper rifle, alright?! Give us back the runt!"

 

* * *

 

**Blood Gulch, outside Blue Base**

 

Church smirked as he put away his gun, pointing it at Quincy's head seemed to convince the orange one to give up the sniper rifle. "Well, that wasn't so bad." He said smugly as he turned to her. "Okay, let's go."

 

She walked beside Church as they came to the middle, where Grif were waiting with the sniper rifle. He had never looked so unhappy before and Quincy began to feel a bit guilty. 

 

Grif liked that sniper rifle, he got to pick it as weapon on his first day at Blood Gulch, he once told her and now, he were giving it up to the Blues for her.

 

"Here..." Gri held out the sniper rifle to Church who took it in his hands, he smirked back at the orange soldier. "...just gimme Quincy."

 

Church put a hand on her shoulder and slightly pushed her at Grif. "Yup, here's the squirt." He smirked and turned around, walking for a couple of seconds before he sprinted towards the Blue base. "Hey, Tucker! We got a fucking sniper rifle now!" Church yelled as he waved around the sniper rifle in his hands.

 

"Awesome, dude!" The teal guy shouted as he began to take off after the other Blue. "Hey, can I try it later-"

 

Their voices ceased until they couldn't hear them anymore. The Reds stood there, watching the anticlimatic trade. Quincy glanced at Grif, he looked very irritated and his brown eyes were so dark. He quickly grabbed her wrist and dragged her back to the others. "Let's go back...I'm not through with you."

 

She didn't knew what to say as they returned to the others. Simmons looked very pale, more than usually. "Quincy, thank God!" He exclaimed and wrapped his arms around her, embracing her. "What were you thinking?! Heading out without your armor on? You're lucky they didn't do anything else to harm you!"

 

Quincy were taken back, she hadn't expected Simmons to sound so...parental. Or more like a fretting older brother. She weren't made of glass and the Blues didn't hurt her. But she supposed she must've given them a scare. "Sorry, Simmons. I won't do that again."

 

Simmons finally let go of her and stepped aside and Quincy froze as she saw Sarge. He glared down at her with crossed arms, looking absolutely furious. 

 

"Uh...hey, remember that really old movie where Iron Man got mad at Spider-Man for accidently causing a ferry having an accident overseas?" Quincy blurted out and started to cold-sweat. She had never been at the recieving end of his fury, so this was a new for her.

 

"Private, I don't wanna hear a single pop-culture reference again!" Sarge snapped at her, effectively shutting up her rambling. "Stupid runt." He grumbled as he slapped his hand onto her head.

 

That was pretty mild for coming from Sarge. It didn't hurt much, but she felt it was more her pride that got wounded. "Sorry..." She mumbled ashamed.

 

"Heh, don't seat it. As soon we get back, prepare to plan a counter attack on those dirty Blues tomorrow morning! Those no-good backstabbers are gonna get back for kidnappin' our secret weapon!"

 

Yup, here it came. Another crazy plan Sarge were going to nag about until they finally went to bed. They started on their trek back home to their base, where Lopez were most likely repairing the Warthog. Or...what was left of it.

 

"Grif...I'm sorry about the sniper rifle." Quincy started as she slowed down to his pace to talk to him. "I know you liked that a whole lot."

 

Grif turned to look at her. "Meh, whatever. It was ust a sniper rifle." He said casually and shrugged, but he smiled. "Besides...if you died, I'd be stuck with Sarge and the kissass nerd. That would've been hella boring."

 

Quincy finally allowed herself to smile, Grif weren't angry at her and it felt better now. "By the way...about those Blue guys. They challenged me on a game of Poker."

 

"Did'ya win?" Grif asked curiously.

 

"Yup, thanks to your...tricks you taught me." Quincy replied back to him.

 

"Great job, you little brat." Grif laughed and ruffled her dirty blonde hair, making it more unruly than it already was. "I've got a deck of cards, let's challenge Simmons to strip poker! That'll show him."

 

Quincy couldn't help than to laugh as they came closer to the Red base. They were going home.

 

And it was the first time she ever called their base in Blood Gulch for home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, I'm hella late with this chapter so once again, I'm REALLY sorry about the delay. Y'know...if there's any frequent readers on this thing. Aw, who am I kidding?
> 
> Anyways, I've gotten summer break until August 19th and I'm really excited cause that means I'm gonna have lots of time to finally write this story. As you probably can guess, this story is the prequel story which means all these stuff happens BEFORE the Blood Gulch Chronicles.
> 
> But once this is done, hoo, then we're going for the rollercoaster ride we call Red vs Blue and things gonna get fun then. 
> 
> Either way, I hoped you guys enjoyed this three-part special and some more short stories is gonna come soon. Remember, if you got any suggestions, I'm very open to it and comments is gold.
> 
> \- Lunan95


	5. Strawberry Oreos, Pabst Blue Ribbon and Church

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Quincy sees Leonard L. Church after their dramatic first meeting and sees past the hatred and judgments of their primary colors. They bond over beers and talk about...anything, actually. 
> 
> Like friends should. No matter the color.

It had gone a couple of months since Quincy's little adventure, which were basically she was kidnapped by the Blues and Grif had to trade away his sniper rifle in exchange for her.

 

To make it up for him, she made his bed every morning and before anyone knew it, Grif has already talked her into doing some of his duties. She never mind, Quincy were far too happy to be back on good terms with Grif, she didn't even cared of how much work she ended up doing.

 

It was just unlucky Simmons caught them redhanded when Quincy cleaned the weapons while Grif slacked off and ate his Oreos. 

 

"I can't believe you, Grif!" The redhaired, taller man hissed as he paced around in the dorm they shared with Quincy. Resources were low and the base were small and simple, so they shared the bedroom with bunkbeds. A good system, she thought.

 

Except when Grif were being his lazy, charming self and Simmons always throwing a hissy fit over it. Nothing more than usual, in other words.

 

"It's not that bad, Simmons." She felt the need to speak up, maybe to try act like a peacemaker here. "I just did his shores in exchange for, y'know, snack cakes."

 

Simmons stopped his pacing and stared. "You made his bed every morning for four months, did the dishes, took over his night shifts and now weapon duty...for snack cakes?!"

 

"Duh." Grif shrugged, he lied down in the lower bed of their bunkbed with arms behind his head as pillow. "Dumbass wouldn't needed to do that if she didn't got traded for my sniper rifle."

 

Simmons were at loss for words and sputtered until he could finally form a sentence. "You...I...I-I can't...this is...this is fucking BULLSHIT!" He finally shouted and pointed a pale finger at the other man. "Is this still because of that fucking sniper rifle?!"

 

"It was his favorite, so I have to make up for it." Quincy defended and tried to not glance at the drawers, where her stash of snack cakes were well-hidden in the left top drawer for her clean underwear. "Besides, he gave me snack cakes for the hard work. It's just like working, you just earn some snacks instead for money."

 

Grif agreed. "Yeah, it's not like it's child labour despite her babyface."

 

"Grif, I'm nineteen, damn it!" Quincy snapped at him. "And I don't have a babyface." She pouted as she put the hands on her face, trying to flat it and make it look...older, at least. 

 

"Whatever." Grif shrugged and despite how good he lied down, it wasn't worth Simmons' seething glare and he sighed as he sat up. "Dude, just lighten up. She can say no. Dumbass just did that cause she wanted to make up for her little adventure."

 

Simmons scoffed. "Well, this is getting a stop now because if you don't put an effort to your duties-"

 

"Fuck efforts, man." Grif injected and shot up a middle finger.

 

"-I'm telling Sarge that you're cheating out of your duties by making Quincy do them. I think he's still looking forward those pushups you never finished last year." Simmons finished as if he weren't interrupted and crossed his arms with a smug look.

 

Grif glared at the taller man. "Fuck you, Simmons. That was a low blow!"

 

"Then step up your plate, Grif." Simmons said as he picked up the laundry basket. "And stop making her work your duties, damn it!" He called after himself as he left the dorms and headed down to the basement to wash.

 

Quincy stared after Simmons, before she glanced at Grif and saw him also staring at her. "You're not gonna listen at him, Grif. Right?"

 

"No fucking way. I live my life and critics be damned." The Hawaiian said and ruffled his black, curly hair. It were growing a lot, almost touching his shoulders. "Tell you what, Quin. Take over night shift and you get a limited edition of Oreos."

 

That caught her attention and Quincy's green eyes lit up. "What kind of limited edition?" She asked aburtly.

 

"The Strawberry Cheesecake Oreo." Grif spoke with a slight pause between the words, waiting satisfied for the effect. 

 

"Sign me up." Quincy grinned.

 

* * *

 

Nightime. Sometimes it were strange that such a sunny and hot place like Blood Gulch could have nights. But to be fair, they were never out at nights and foughts those silly battles with the Blues.

 

The whole Red vs Blue fight started to become lesser important to her, the whole idea of it felt ridiculous now. Especially when Quincy had started to learn to know Church and Tucker.

 

It were only night for four, five hours. Two of those hours were sunset and dawn, so technically it was only dark for three hours. Not enough time to sleep the recommended eight hours, as Simmons always nagged about. But thank God for those black draped for the windows, so they could actually sleep longer.

 

Not that she wouldn't sleep until she got back in the dawn, Quincy thought for herself as she decided to go for a nightly walk, she jumped off the roof of the base and landed in a perfect three-point landing on the dirt. After last time, she kept the salmon armor on all the time except inside the base.

 

Quincy gave a tired sigh. Those Strawberry Cheesecake Oreos better be worth this stupid night shift. Then again, Grif had never given her a reason to doubt him...yet. 

 

She came to a stop once she saw some holes in the rocky mountains, in the middle of the canyon. Quincy dropped onto her knees and drawled through the holes, discovering to her delight that this...was a cave. How awesome was that? 

 

Looked like a boring box canyon in the middle of nowhere had some wild cards.

 

Quincy looked at the other side of the canyon, seeing the familiar Blue base. Maybe some...frememies were up for some night visit? She cut her losses and started to walk towards Blue base.

 

On top of the base were someone...ah! Quincy quickly recognized the light blue armor. It was Church. He was nice to talk to...when he weren't irritated.

 

"Hey, Church!" Quincy called out, trying to keep her voice down. 

 

The light-blue soldier heard her and looked down at her. "What the hell are you doing here?!" He hissed. "You're supposed to be at Red base!"

 

"Got night shift." Quincy said and shrugged. "It's boring, so I came here to ask if you got anything to drink and can share."

 

Church gave her a skeptical stare before he looked around himself and gave a long, irritated groan. "Fine! Still gonna try shoot at you tomorrow morning."

 

"Deal!" Quincy exclaimed. She didn't liked to go inside Blue base (Sarge always said it were filled of floor mines and traps), so she decided to jump.

 

Onto the roof of Blue base. 

 

Quincy backed away several yards before she ran and jumped as high she could, she couldn't help than to laugh a bit hysterically as she seemed to float in the air and landed onto the Blue base's roof, next to Church who seemed too shocked to object.

 

"Whoa, so that still works." She gasped out with a chuckle, Quincy felt how her heart were racing and her legs felt like jelly. She sat down at the edge of Blue base's roof.

 

Church, at this point, yanked off his helmet and stared at her in disbelief. "What the fuck?!" He shouted loudly. "That doesn't seem physically possible! How can you jump that high?!"

 

"I don't know, I discovered it yesterday!" Quincy replied back with a cheerful shout, still feeling high on adrenaline. "I can jump really high for some reason, I don't remember if I always could do that or if I learned that in basic."

 

"Uh...I'm pretty sure you don't learn how to jump like a fucking alien frog in basic training." Church answered with his usual deadpan sarcasm. "You're sure you're from Earth and not, y'know, from some Earth colony on some weirdass alien planet?"

 

"I'm certain I would remember that." Quincy said. "I've got memories from being born and raised at Earth with my Earthling parents in my Earth hometown. I don't think that would be fake."

 

"Yeah, I just asked." Church scoffed, but he settled down next to her and watched over the canyon. "This place sucks, you know."

 

Quincy nodded. "It does. Lucky I've got Grif or I would go crazy. You're pretty cool too."

 

"Thanks..." Church said dryly before he rose onto his feet. "I'm gonna fetch something to drink, this damn dirthole is hot even at nights."

 

"Okay, sure." Quincy said as Church vanished down the ramp, probably to find beers or whatever. She sat there on top of Blue base and looked over the canyon, suddenly feeling very alone.

 

Quincy pondered over her choice of taking over Grif's night shift, it wasn't just because of the Strawberry Cheesecake Oreo. Her other reason felt pretty...selfish as well.

 

When she didn't had night shift, Quincy struggled to sleep at nights. She couldn't figure out why, but she had bad dream she couldn't remember. All she knew was how she could wake up in the middle of night in cold sweat and the overwhelming feelings of dread and fear.

 

It was enough when she couldn't sleep after the strange dreams, but she felt more ashamed over the fact that she kept Simmons up with her nightmares. He always insisted it was alright, after getting her water and trying to talk about the dreams that she couldn't remember.

 

But Quincy never quite believed him, Simmons were just saying that to make her feel better.

 

"FUCK!" Quincy squeaked when she felt something ice-cold at her neck, exposed by not wearing a helmet. She turned around and saw Church's cocky smirk with two cans, which was probably the culprit. "Church, you backstabbing cockbite!" The salmon-colored soldier threw out.

 

"Whoa, you kiss your mother with that mouth?" The light-blue soldier smirked and teased her more. "Found some beer in the fridge."

 

"Pabst Blue Ribbon? Really?" Quincy grinned as she accepted her can.

 

Church opened his can and shrugged. "Blue ribbons means first place. For winners like me."

 

"Does this mean I'm a winner as well?" Quincy asked and opened her can, it gave a CLICK and she winced at it. That sounded...familiar?

 

Church took a tip and smacked his lips, satisfied. "I guess? You're probably the only thing that's worth something in Red base."

 

"I don't deny that. We're all Red assholes and you guys are Bluetards, someone's gotta win this shit."

 

"Yeah, so we can go home. Fighting you guys is a waste of time."

 

Quincy raised the can to her lips and took a sip. The taste were strong and a bit bitter, the scent made her almost wince. People actually drank this? But after a while, suddenly the beer tasted good and she wanted another taste-

 

_"-and after this shit's done, I'm gonna retire."_

_"Really, where?"_

_"I'm gonna have this retirement paradise, a chain of islands that spread on a sea-covered planet somewhere in the galaxy. I'll have my own cabin with a bar filled of spiced rum. Oh and a red, little sailboat!"_

 

Quincy were drawn back to reality, she coughed and hissed as the beer accidently got into the wrong way. She choked on it through her airways instead of down the throat. She felt something slapping her back hard.

 

"Shit, you're okay?" Church looked concerned. "You sounded like you were suffocating on the beer, dumbass!"

 

Quincy inhaled fresh air and hit her chestplate with her fist, she were okay. "It got in the wrong way, I just...remembered something."

 

"Remember? Like what?" Church frowned in confusion.

 

"My past, I think." Quincy replied. "Someone were drinking beer with someone else, they were talking about retiring and settling on a paradise planet with islands, a bar with spiced rum and...a tiny, red sailboat." She explained as good she could. "I-I think...it was my dad."

 

"You think? You can't forget your own dad, right?" Church retorted. "Retire from what? I thought working those simple jobs at Earth were easy. You remember what he worked with?"

 

"A farm, I think..." Quincy trailed off, she set her can at the side and clutched her head with her hands. "It doesn't many sense, I know I have family and home at Earth. I remember so well, but I can't remember their faces or how they sound like."

 

"Uuh, I gonna take this away for now." Church said as he grabbed her beer can and moved it away. "You know what? I think you have been here for too long, you're probably starting to forget your own family."

 

Quincy let go of her head and looked up at the light-blue soldier. "Yeah, probably. I remember more of basic training than my actual home."

 

"I knew this fucking dirthole sucks balls..." Church muttered. "I don't dream at nights. I dunno what's up with that, I just...don't and even if I do, I never remember it."

 

Quincy nodded in agreement. "Dreams are fucking weird. Like, I have nightmares but I never remember what it's about. I just wake up and feel...scared."

 

Church didn't said anything, but he took another sip from his can. "Well, if we weren't fighting against each other...you could be, I dunno...my friend." He looked a bit flustered over it. "You can have fucked up nightmares, I don't judge. You're just better to talk to than Tucker and his damn nagging about chicks."

 

"Thanks, man." Quincy smiled back at him. "You're not such big of an asshole either."

 

* * *

 

What felt like hours, were really some minutes that followed the silence. Their cans of beer were finished and they lied on their backs at the roof of the base, legs dangling over the edge.

 

"Ever wonder why the fuck we're here?" Church asked as they stared at the millions of stars above them. "Like, what the fuck are we going here?"

 

Quincy drew out a deep sigh, she always heard Grif and Simmons bicker about this. But now, she had her own asshole to ask the question. "Hell if I know..." She replied. "What if all this is fake? Like, maybe the war is fake and we're just being tested by the government or some shit."

 

"That's fucking crazy!" Church exclaimed and laughed. "Like, are we gonna get medals and parades for this shit?"

 

Quincy shrugged. "Maybe?"

 

"That's bullshit."

 

Despite what, they were friends. Despite Church were a Blue and Quincy were Red, they both knew they were friends. Not best friends, but...friends.

 

What did primary color-coded armies matter, when they could see far past the judgments and realize the war were ridiculous. No one were here to judge them anyways.

 

Until dawn came, Church and Quincy could be friends. But before the nights could finally come, they had to fight each other during the days. 

 

But...who cares? All they did was to stand around and talk, anyways.


	6. We Are We Here?

One day, just like every other day in Blood Gulch, everything changed. Both for the Reds and Blues, but like every epic hero tale, it started like an ordinary day. It was hot, muggy and boring.

 

This particular morning, Quincy were annoyed by Simmons who never stopped his _"mother hen"_ attitude. For example, he had hidden her box of Lucky Charms and prepared a bowl of her least favorite cereal.

 

Raisin Brans. God, she hated that kind of cereal. It wasn't even real breakfast! Grif agreed while he searched upside down for his Oreos, Simmons had been on their sorry hides ever since they ate from the unhealthy food of the supply drops. Maybe he hadn't noticed that, but Grif and Quincy knew that he were trying to replace their snack cakes with carrot sticks.

 

Ew.

 

But it always seemed to be a golden, unspoken rule about not touching the Strawberry Yoohoos in the fridge, they were Sarge's exclusively. Not even Quincy got to get one, despite their crazy leader seemed to favor her a bit.

 

"Ha, found them finally!" Quincy said as she moved aside the cans of soup and found the familiar, colorful box of her beloved breakfast cereals. She grabbed it and squeezed it tightly in her embrace. "My Lucky Charms...don't abandon me ever again~!"

 

Grif laughed. "I swear, you're obsessed by them!"

 

"Oh, like you are with your Oreos?" She teased back and grabbed her favorite bowl (it was a bit pushing it, every of their bowls and plates were red), pouring the colorful and sugary cereal pieces. "Ohh, this is gonna be good."

 

Grif, being his usual self, shoved a whole pizza wrap into his mouth and chewed. "Mhm-mwhmh-!" He said, but Quincy didn't get what he said with his mouth full of food. For sme reason, Simmons were always able to figure it out. He should have a PhD in understanding Grif-speaking-with-full-mouth-language.

 

Speak of the devil...

 

Simmons just entered the kitchens and stopped aburtly at the scene in front of him. "God damn it...I hid that sugarcoated danger bomb so you wouldn't eat it!" He scolded Quincy, who grabbed her bowl and hid it, as if she were a dragon protecting her gold hoard. "All my hard work is for nothing!"

 

"Stop forcing me to eat healthy, you're not my mom!" Quincy retorted angrily.

 

"Yeah, get off her back." Grif agreed, he seems to finally swallowed his pizza wrap successfully without choking. 

 

Simmons turned his glare to the Hawaiian instead. "I bet you just encouraged this, fatass!"

 

"Of course, let the runt eat whatever she wants. We just have more in common." Grif rolled his eyes and went to the fridge, opening it to look for a drink.

 

The tall ginger stammered. "We have a lot on common, me and Quincy!" He defended. "More than you, anyways-"

 

"No, we don't." Quincy disagreed. "Simmons is just more delusional than Sarge."

 

"What in Sam Hell is all that racket?" Sarge had finally arrived, dressed in full armor (it weren't even ten o'clock, how long were he even awake?). 

 

Simmons straightened on his back, trying to make a good impression of himself. "Nothing, sir. We were just-"

 

"Simmons is trying to force me to eat healthy, he thinks he's my big brother or something and Grif lets me do whatever I want, which is cool." Quincy interrupted and shoved a spoonful of Lucky Charms and milk into her mouth.

 

"Grif, you've corrupted and ruined my best soldier!" Sarge barked at the former.

 

"Oops, my bad." Grif snarked back and opened a can of Coke. "Wait...nope, not sorry." He added and took a big gulp, he smirked at the youngest afterwards. "Ahh, better than Pepsi."

 

"Pepsi is better than Coke, I swear!" Quincy spoke with her mouth full of Lucky Charms, her manners had really gone to hell to Simmons' dismay. 

 

Grif scoffed. "Whatever, dumbass."

 

Simmons had abandonded his attempts to change their food habits and went to fry his eggs. He were currently in the last stage of grief when it came to try turn Quincy into a respectable soldier and now, Grif had ruined it.

 

On the other hand, Sarge decided he didn't gave a shit about their bickerings. He grabbed a Strawberry Yoohoo from the fridge and left, probably finding more company in the mute robot Lopez.

* * *

Later that afternoon, Grif and Simmons were tasked to keep guard from the rooftop while Quincy cleaned in the armory (it turned out she stole from Sarge's peanuts and he saw fit to punish her). Since there were nothing else to actually do than talk...the subject always turned to the same direction as always.

 

"Hey." Simmons said, catching the other's attention.

 

Grif turned his head to the maroon soldier. "Yeah?"

 

"Ever wonder why we're here?" He asked.

 

The orange soldier sighed. "It's one of life's greatest mysteries, isn't it?" He said and scratched his chin in a thoughtful manner. "Why are we here? I mean, are we the product of some...cosmic coincidence or...is there really a God. Watching everything. Y'know, with a plan for us and stuff." He gave a heavy sigh. "I dunno, man. But it keeps me up at night.

 

There were a thick silence.

 

"What?!" Simmons asked incredilously. "No, I mean why are we out here, in this canyon?"

 

Grif suddenly looked a bit embarrassed. "Oh, uh...yeah." He muttered.

 

Suddenly Simmons seemed to remember what he said earlier. "What was all that stuff about God?"

 

"Uh...hm? Nothing!" He quickly turned away.

 

Simmons tilted his head at the side. "You wanna talk about it?" He asked.

 

"No."

 

"You're sure?" 

 

Grif nodded firmly. "Yeah."

 

"Seriously though, why are we out here?" Simmons groaned, voicing his earlier question. "Far as I can tell, it's jst a box canyon in the middle of nowhere, with no way in or out."

 

"Mhm." Grif said, not really interested.

 

"And the only reason that we set up a red base here, is because they have a blue base over there." He gestured towards the other base at the other side of the canyon. "And the only reason they have a bluse base over there, is because we have a red base here."

 

"Yeah, that's because we're fighting each other." Grif countered with a raised eyebrow, like it was obvious.

 

Simmons shook his head. "No no, I mean, even if we were to pull out today and they were to come take our base, they would have two bases in the middle of a box canyon." He explained and crossed his arms irritated. "Whoop-de-fucking-do!"

 

"What's up with that anyways?" Grif retorted. "I mean, I signed up on fight some aliens. Next thing I know Master Chief blows up the whole Covenant armada and I'm stuck in the middle of nowhere, fighing a bunch of blue guys." He agreed with Simmons' dumb logic, for once.

* * *

Meanwhile, over by the cliffsides behind Blue base, Church were spying on the Reds through his sniper rifle. While he could see them perfectly through the scope, it irritated him that they couldn't hear what they were talking about.

 

"What are they doing?"

 

Church snapped awake. "What?" He threw out.

 

"I said, what are they doing now?" Tucker said as he were leaned against the rock wall with crossed arms.

 

"God damn, I'm so sick of answering that question!" Church swore and looked up from the sniper rifle, glaring at his teammate.

 

"Hey, you have the fucking sniper rifle! I can't see shit." Tucker defended, putting his hands up in defense. "Don't bitch at me because I'm not gonna to just sit here and play with my dick all day-"

 

Church sighed. "Okay, okay. Look," He started. ""They're just standing there and talking, okay? That's all they're doing. That's all they  _ever_ do is stand around and talk. That's what they were doing last week, that's what they were doing when you asked me five minutes ago. So five minutes from _now_ , when you ask me 'What are they doing?', my answer's gonna be 'They're _still_ just talking, and they're _still_ just standing there!'" He practically shouted out the last words, as if he thought that would get through Tucker's head.

 

Tucker looked at Church, then glanced over to Red base before he looked back at Church. "What are they talking about?" He finally asked.

 

Church narrowed his eyes and glared. "You know what? I fucking hate you."

* * *

"Talk about waste of resources!" Grif kicked away a small rock with his feet. "I mean, we should be out there finding new and intelligent forms of life. You know, fight them."

 

Simmons had his arms crossed against his chest and rolled his eyes, but he wore an amused smile either way. "Yeah, not shit." He said. "That's why they should put us in charge."

 

Suddenly a loud, Southern accented bark interrupted their talk. "Ladies! Front and center on the double!" 

 

"Fuck..." Simmons muttered.

 

Grif groaned. "Yes, sir." He replied as he and Simmons started to head down the ramp. It was better to see what Sarge wanted this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, clearly I'm on a roll and to make up for my lack of chapter for almost an entire month, I've posted now two new chapters to make you all happy about it.
> 
> Seriously though, I had a tough author's clock and I had a lot of depression on myself. Mostly about my economic situation and I won't be able to celebrate my birthday which is soon (really, I thought becoming 24 wouldn't be like this).
> 
> Enough about it, this is where all the fun begins. Season 1 of the Blood Gulch Chronicles are starting now! Wowzers!
> 
> I'd like to thank everyone who's followed this story so far. All those kudos and the few comments that had been dropped here and there...thank you so much and I hope you're not disappointed by the Missouri-verse. 
> 
> \- Lunan

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, this is my first work in the Red vs Blue fandom. I'm trying out a new style and this is basically a prologue to the canon timeline.
> 
> I'm sure there's a lot fanfictions out there with the canon divergence, where CHURCH DON'T FUCKING DIE CAUSE THAT SUCKS! (He's one of my favorite characters, along with Grif and Simmons.)
> 
> Anyways, I made some research about the Freelancers and there were actually nothing on Missouri. So I suppose Missouri aka Quincy is gonna be a special case. I jumped onto the possibility that if an AI is implanted in an infant, the AI might merge with the human soul the longer they carry it. That's a theory I'd like to test out.
> 
> Anyways, I did like writing this prologue, I'm pretty proud of it and please leave feedback. I'm very anxious of the outcome and I hope you liked it. If not, then tell me how to improve in the comment field.
> 
> \- Lunan95
> 
> PS. I'd like to point out that it's referenced that Quincy's armor color is mauve, but it's not really. It's salmon. All of the guys including Quincy is really misinformed.


End file.
